


Wake

by jessalae



Category: The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Porn Battle, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where do you think we should go from here?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XIV, with prompts last, crumble, survive. Content notes for descriptions of blood/gore and post-apocalyptic death and destruction; no other notes apply.

To Dana’s great surprise, they didn’t die right away. It was what she had expected: a quick, fiery, world-ending explosion, probably pretty spectacular from the outside but over in an instant. At the very least, she had expected to die of her wounds, or be crushed by the pieces of the giant freaking mystical sacrifice room they were sitting in. Two average-sized people hanging out under a ton of falling stone should, by rights, end up squashed by a chunk of ceiling or half of an arch, or something.

But she didn’t bleed out, or get squished, and they made it out of the crumbling underground complex still breathing. No quick and painless death for them, the Old Ones seemed to have decided. Instead, they got something much worse: they got to witness the aftermath of their choice.

The world above was fire and ash by the time they clambered up through the layers of rubble. The cabin was a smoldering ruin, the forest charred and crushed. They found a part of the lake that wasn’t completely black with soot and tried to wash off some of the blood and grime. Dana stripped off her shirt to clean the bites on her shoulder. They were surprisingly painless — maybe werewolves had some natural anesthetic in their saliva. Or maybe she had been in too much pain the past few days to feel any more.

Marty fell all over himself trying to turn his back when she took off her bra to get at a cut just below her shoulder blade. “Knock it off and come help me with this,” Dana snapped at him.

Marty turned back around gingerly and grimaced at the dried blood smeared down her side and crusting the top of her pants. “I guess we are a little beyond petty human social taboos, at this point,” he said.

Dana handed him a rag she had torn from the hem of her jeans, wet with distressingly lukewarm lake water. “Yeah. And besides, for all we know, we might be the last two people on Earth. We should probably try to keep ourselves in one piece.”

Marty hesitated, then carefully held onto her arm and started wiping the blood away. “Hey, do you think you’ll be a werewolf now?”

“Good question,” Dana said. “When’s the next full moon?”

“No idea.”

“I guess we’ll find out when it happens, then.”

Marty leaned past her to rinse out the rag and went back to work, working his way down to the waistband of her jeans. “I dunno, though. I think the rules are different now. I mean, who knows if that’s even how lycanthropy really worked before. Would they have kept a regular guy locked up in those glass cells and just hoped their little murder party coincided with the full moon every year?”

“Wouldn’t they?” Dana asked, looking back and raising her eyebrows at Marty. Her shoulder twinged at the twisting motion, and she turned back to face the lake. Marty paused at her wince of pain, his fingers warm on her arm. 

“Dana?”

Dana didn’t know what to do with the sympathy in his voice, so she unbuttoned her jeans and inched them down to let him get at more of the dried blood. “Where do you think we should go from here?”

“Back to the road if we can find it, then head towards civilization? Whatever’s left of it, anyway.”

Dana managed a smile. “I thought you were all about being off the grid.”

“Yeah… that seemed like a way better idea when I knew there was a grid to be off of. Heated discussions about how The Man is tracking us all go a lot better with some Taco Bell, you know? I don’t think I’ll actually be that good at foraging in the wilderness.” Marty carefully wiped away the last of the blood and smoothed his hand up over the curve of Dana’s hip, wiping off some excess water. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Dana said, turning with her whole body this time to keep from straining her shoulder. Marty’s eyes flickered from her face to her breasts and back up to her face, and he let go of her arm like it was something poisonous. Dana peered up through the blackened tree trunks at the ash-grey sky. “I can’t even tell what time it is.”

“Probably not nighttime,” Marty offered helpfully. Dana gave him a look and he busied himself rinsing out the rag.

“Just leave that,” Dana said, fastening her bra and wringing out her shirt as much as she could. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

It turned out the road wasn’t hard to get to, if you took a back route through the forest — whatever camouflage technology the Organization had been using to hide it must have shorted out when their headquarters imploded, was Marty’s theory. After that, it was just a matter of retracing the path of their road trip, on foot this time instead of in an RV. The scenery trudged by instead of rolling, letting them see every smoking ruin of a building, every mangled vehicle and highway sign, every bloody, charred corpse. The sky never changed in color or brightness during their whole trip, although they must have walked for hours.

The destruction in the city was much the same was the highway had been, just compressed into a smaller space. Some streets were blocked off entirely by rubble, so they wound their way around piles of brick and steel and splintered wood. There weren’t too many visible corpses, thankfully, but there weren’t any living creatures, either.

“Not even a cockroach,” Marty muttered, kicking a blackened piece of a door frame out of his path. “Those little bastards are supposed to be indestructible.”

“I guess vengeful ancient gods are more intense than nuclear winter,” Dana said.

After a while, the scenery that had been so disturbing at the beginning started to just get monotonous — another collapsed house, another crushed two-door sedan, another gaping crack in the sidewalk. When the passed the burnt-out shell of yet another little mom-and-pop store, Dana sat down heavily on a cracked slab of pavement and realized abruptly how tired she was.

“We haven’t slept in at least twenty-four hours,” she said through a yawn. “Adrenaline can only get us so far.”

“Yeah, but—“ Marty paused to echo her yawn. “We haven’t found anything.”

“What are we even looking for?” Dana asked.

As if on cue, the sky darkened, a menacing new layer of cloud rolling in under the undifferentiated gray that had covered them all day. Dana turned her face up to the new sky so she wouldn’t have to look at the confusion on Marty’s face.

They found a house that had remained partially intact a few blocks away. The living room and kitchen were obliterated, but one bedroom was still standing, protected somehow by pieces of the room that had fallen at just the right angle. Inside, they found a closet full of men’s business clothes and a queen-sized bed, the blankets strewn across it like the previous occupant had gotten up in a hurry. As the sky continued to darken, Dana changed her torn and stained clothes for an oversized button-down and boxers and crawled into bed next to Marty. He looked at her sidelong, adjusting the t-shirt and boxers he’d found in a dresser drawer, and carefully lay down next to her, not touching.

 

When Dana woke up, it was impossible to tell how long it had been. The sky was a bit lighter, but that could mean anything. Time didn’t seem to have any meaning anymore. Dana rolled over and found Marty looking at her thoughtfully.

“What if we really are the last two people on Earth?” he asked.

It was a question Dana had been considering ever since they’d found the empty city. She hadn’t come up with a good answer yet — but this seemed like a moment more suited to easy answers than good ones. “I think all the cliches make it pretty clear, don’t you?” she said, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Marty squeaked against her mouth, surprised, then some instinct seemed to take over and he leaned into the kiss, arms sliding up to circle Dana’s waist and pull her closer. Dana clung to his neck, kissing him thoroughly, desperately, because if she could somehow pour all her emotions out through her mouth she wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore. Marty seemed to be doing the same thing: his breath was coming in gasps, almost sobs, more than it should be this early in the game. Dana shifted closer to him and felt his half-hard cock rubbing against her thigh, hot through his borrowed boxers. Marty tensed for a second, hesitating, then ran his hands up under the back of Dana’s shirt. His fingers trembled against her skin, his whole body vibrating as he carefully drew her closer.

Dana pushed him down onto his back and straddled him, breaking the kiss so she could sit up and start undoing the buttons of her borrowed shirt. Marty watched her with unfocused eyes, and when she was done with the last button he reached up to brush the shirt off her shoulders, carefully gripping her upper arms and pulling her down for a kiss. Dana slid her boxers down, worked them past her knees and off, all without taking her mouth away from Marty’s. The way he was kissing, it was like he thought he could share some of his soul with Dana with his tongue and lips and teeth. She wasn’t sure if that was possible, but it had to be worth a shot.

When he slid inside her, finally, everything stopped for a moment. The still air in the abandoned house seemed to hang more motionless, their timeless surroundings freezing even further. Finally Marty drew a shuddering breath and kissed the corner of Dana’s mouth. Dana had her eyes closed, her body still adjusting to the stretch and heat of Marty’s cock deep inside her. She rolled her hips, eyes still closed, and both she and Marty moaned softly. She opened her eyes carefully and did it again.

From there, it was like a boulder rolling downhill, picking up speed, utterly oblivious to anything in its path. Dana crashed down onto Marty’s mouth, Marty’s hips slammed up to met hers, both their hands stroked and touched and sought and found. A not-quite-animal instinct drove them, a need to remember that there was someone else there with each of them, that if nothing else was real at least their need was, and their sweat and spit and lips and fingers and tongues. Dana panted against Marty’s cheek, turning her head for kisses in between gulps of air. Her nails dug into Marty’s shoulders, marking him with half-moons of white-edged pink. Marty’s groans turned more and more desperate, edging into sobs even though Dana was giving him all she had and more. Before he came, his eyes widened and he tugged at Dana’s hips, pushing her away. Dana slid off and lay forward over him, feeling him spill against her belly even as she stroked herself to completion.

When her body relaxed, its energy spent, all was quiet again. Dana rested her head on Marty’s shoulder and listened to his heart beat in the quiet room, in the abandoned house, in the empty city, under the flat, grey sky.


End file.
